


at least we were electrified

by bakerloo



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29317101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakerloo/pseuds/bakerloo
Summary: There is something oddly poetic about sexually-confused Shelby in a gay club with the girl who hates her guts.
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 17
Kudos: 237





	at least we were electrified

**Author's Note:**

> title from dress by taylor swift

The crooks of Shelby’s elbows are tacky with sweat and stick to the inside of the leather jacket she’s wearing. She plucks at the sleeve with black-painted fingernails to give her hands something to do that isn’t scratch her face off. The jacket isn’t hers; Fatin, who hadn’t been given much of a head’s up, had had to borrow something from her own wardrobe (with the threat of bodily harm should anything happen to it). Fatin is tall but also built like a decorative lamp, so while the sleeves come down over Shelby’s knuckles the breadth of the jacket is uncomfortably tight around her shoulders.

“So,” Gretchen coos, “how long have you been together?”

Toni’s hand rests on top of Shelby’s relentless fingers, and Shelby stills. “About two years – right babe?” she says. To Gretchen: “It was just love at first sight.”

It’s odd, hearing something so sugary-sweet in Toni’s voice, especially when it’s coming from a face uncharacteristically pencilled in makeup and glitter. Like this, candy would melt in her mouth; normally it would become rock-hard on her tongue so she could spit it at people like bullets. Shelby turns her hand, laces their fingers together. Her nail polish glints in the strobe lights.

Gretchen looks positively enamoured, and Toni’s grip tightens. “Oh, how _nice_ ,” she says, like they’re a pair of kittens who just did something cute. “What’s the story? Where did you meet?”

They’ve practiced this. “Oh, just mutual friends,” Shelby says, with a laugh. “Board game night, would you believe – saw this darlin’ across the room and knew just from the first minute that she was the one.”

Toni’s grip becomes almost painful. Shelby hides her smirk.

“I asked for her number when the night was over, and, well.” Shelby shrugs. “The rest is history, as you say.”

“I just admire your bravery,” Gretchen says. “Being so bold to live out your authenticity in a society still driven by the patriarchy and male gaze.”

Shelby sees Toni’s sugary façade crack a little. “I mean, we’re in a gay club.”

“Of course, of course. I just meant in general. I don’t even want to imagine just the comments you must get.”

Forget murderous mob boss – Shelby’s pretty sure Gretchen’s worst trait is just how condescending she is. She’s about half a drink away from stroking their hair and telling them that she wants to take them home with her like they’re pets. Both their smiles are tight. “Yes, well,” Shelby says, “you know how it is. It’s all worth it.”

“Right,” Toni says, which means she’s about to break. Shelby’s been in this situation enough. Toni gets monosyllabic whenever she’s cornered and about to crack. The fact they’re both still thrumming with tension and unresolved tension from the shouting match they’d had only minutes earlier helps no one; Shelby can feel how tightly the muscles in Toni’s hands are bunched from how hard she’s resisting the urge to curl a fist and throw a punch. “Hey, babe, I’m getting a little thirsty – want to get a drink?”

“Sounds good, honey,” Shelby says. It’s worth it, mostly for the way Toni’s eyes tighten, but also for the way Gretchen smiles at them both. Shelby is half-convinced at this point they could whip out their FBI badges and she’d be just as doting and patronising so long as they kept calling each other pet names. “Let’s go. Good to meet you, Gretchen.”

Toni takes her hand and pulls her off the stool she was sat on before Gretchen can respond, dragging her through the dance floor to the bar. Her tight grip loosens as soon as they edge their way past a knot of dancing girls and Gretchen’s eyeline on them is broken, but she doesn’t let go until they emerge on the other side of the dance floor. Shelby tries not to think too hard about that.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Toni says immediately, pacing towards the bar. Shelby is a little surprised – she’d expected the drink line to be a ruse to get them out of there. Then again, knowing Toni, whenever there is the opportunity for alcohol it’ll be taken. “She is fucking _unbearable_.”

Shelby takes the seat next to her at the bar even though Toni didn’t invite her to follow, running her finger around the neck of her jacket to separate it from where it had been glued to her neck with sweat. She’s never been a fan of leather jackets on herself, and this certainly isn’t doing them any favours. She’s so hot she thinks she might melt into the floor.

“I hope you’re not expecting us to pay for those,” Rachel says over their shared earpiece, as the bartender slides a line of shots across the bar. “They don’t count as a business expense.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” Toni says, and slams one back immediately. “Fuck. That tastes like ass.”

“If it means anything,” Martha’s voice chimes in, “you guys are doing really well. I think she’s buying it.”

Toni’s face darkens, and she downs another shot. Shelby says, “How much longer?”

“Just keep her there for another ten minutes. Walking away was good – I think she was going to get suspicious otherwise. We’ve got an eye on the security cameras; if she doesn’t approach you in the next five go back, invite her to dance.”

“Will do,” Shelby says. “Thanks, Martha.”

Rachel scoffs contemptuously. Martha says, “You’re killing it, guys. Just a bit longer.”

“You don’t have to look so excited, by the way,” Shelby says, when Martha disconnects. “I know this isn’t ideal but it’s a little hurtful you’re so eager to get out.”

Toni drops the shot glass down on the table, and then eyes up the third one like she’s considering it too. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, Goodkind,” she says. She reaches for the shot but Shelby quickly intercepts, pulling it towards herself and drinking it herself, which—holy mother of _God_. It burns like gasoline down her throat. She’s not much of a recreational drinker; she’d forgotten just how awful straight vodka could be.

When she finishes choking it down and rests the glass down on the counter with a hiccup, Toni is fixing her with an unimpressed look. “You didn’t even pretend to enjoy that,” she says.

“I can’t have you do three shots on the job.”

“Unlike you, I know how to hold my liquor.”

This is unfortunately true. Toni can hold her alcohol like a brick wall. “What did you mean by that?”

“That you’re a lightweight.”

“About not giving me too much credit.”

Toni sighs, but it’s more resigned, and the look she casts across the room, like she’s checking Gretchen isn’t looking, suggests it’s not as much to do with Shelby as she anticipated. “I don’t like her,” she mutters. “Klein.”

“Well.” Shelby shifts in her jacket. “She _did_ kill a few people.”

“Not for that. She’s...” Toni exhales, and turns one of the shot glasses on its head. “I don’t like the way she was talking about us. Like we’re _things_. It’s just—it’s gross.” She glances at Shelby, and then scoffs, shaking her head. “Whatever. You wouldn’t get it.”

Shelby watches her carefully. They spent about two hours camped out in Martha’s tiny Honda waiting for Gretchen to arrive at the club, so Shelby should be used to how she looks, but in the bright neon lights of the club, it only somehow gets more jarring to see her dolled up like this, in a tight dress and boots, laden in jewellery. Dot had wanted them as unrecognisable as possible, which is why Shelby looks like she’s just walked out of the end of fucking _Grease_ , but Toni doesn’t even feel like the same person anymore. Shelby’s gotten so used to seeing her stomp around their shared cubicle with unshaven armpits and frankly an obscene amount of athleisure (Shelby is a firm advocate for looking cute whilst working out, but Toni owns _three_ thermal tank tops and two of them are orange) that seeing the same surly gaze come from a face stencilled in makeup feels disconcerting.

Still: “I think I do,” she says softly.

Toni cuts her gaze at her. “Really,” she says. Her voice is flat and curt.

“I was there too.”

“Yeah, but unlike you, this isn’t a skin I can shed at the end of the night.”

It’s like being punched in the gut. Shelby’s mouth tightens. “That’s not—”

“What?” Toni challenges. “ _What happened?_ I’m right, aren’t I?”

This is pure Toni now. It’s a dangerous line to walk, especially when their target is but thirty feet away with the image of them as smitten kids in love fresh in her mind, but Shelby is done with her lording this over her head. “No, you’re really not.”

Toni’s face twists the way it always does whenever they start to snap like this: as though she almost _enjoys_ it, takes some sort of pleasure in this acerbic back and forth between them. “Yeah? Educate me, then, Goodkind. Seriously, tell me _all_ about what it’s called when during the day you put on this perfect godly Bible front and then one night after two drinks—”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I bet if I got one more shot in you you’d be on the floor fucking _begging_ for it. What’s the order again? Lychee martini?” Toni pretends to think, running her thumb along the condensation on the outside of the shot glass; Shelby can’t pull her eyes away. “Something kind of poetic about that, no? The forbidden fruit?” She tips her head consideringly, long dark hair slipping over one shoulder. “Is that right? Did I get my Bible correct?”

“Cute,” Shelby says, her mouth dry. She wishes she had something to sip at, give her hands something to do. The insides of her elbows begin to stick to the jacket again. “I didn’t know you paid that much attention.”

Toni’s leans close. Her breath smells of vodka and the apple she ate in the Honda before they came in. “You have _no_ fucking idea.”

Shelby’s words falter in her mouth, but before she can say anything more their earpiece crackles to life. “Gretchen’s coming your way,” Rachel says, low and urgent. “Keep her engaged at the bar – we’ve got the team stationed on all entrances. Just give them the word.”

“Got it,” Toni says. She won’t meet Shelby’s eyes, but she takes her hand, laces their fingers together just as Gretchen emerges from the dance floor in front of them.

“Girls!” she says. She holds out a hand. “I was wondering where you had gotten off to. Come dance with me!”

Shelby’s head is still spinning, but she knows when to be professional. She flags over the bartender. “Aw, we’re not really in the dancing mood any longer, Toni’s feet are hurtin’ from the amount we’ve danced already. Isn’t that right, honey? Still, we’d love for you to come have a drink or two with us.”

Gretchen looks thrilled at this change in events. Shelby almost feels bad for her until she remembers all the murder. “Well, how can I turn down such a generous offer?” she says. “I’ll shout this round, don’t you girls worry. What can I get you?”

“Oh, just a beer, thanks,” Toni says. They won’t be here when the drink arrives. Still, Shelby can’t let this one go.

“I’ll have a lychee martini,” she says. She feels Toni’s eyes bore into the side of her head. “You’re real kind for this, Gretchen.”

“So long as you get the next round,” Gretchen says, with a wink. She leans over the counter and pulls a twenty-dollar note out of her purse. “Mm, I’m feeling like a sangria for now.”

“You know who used to love sangrias, Toni?” Shelby says. “Your old co-worker... what was his name again? Martin?”

Toni’s expression is conflicted, but her voice is very deliberate when she says, “Oh, no. _Marcus_.”

And the doors burst open.

*

It’s the time after that is the worst part.

Loitering around the back door, split from the pack, pretending she had nothing to do with what just happened. Fatin smokes, so there’s a box of cigarettes in the pocket; Shelby pulls it out, runs her finger over the front.

“It kills, you know.”

She doesn’t look up; hears rather than sees Toni drop down on the step next to her. She’s back to herself, now, legs spread wide, the clip-on earrings removed from her ears. Like this, but in the dress, she is the strangest of juxtapositions.

“I wasn’t going to,” Shelby says, when the silence stretches on. Belatedly, she offers one to Toni, who shakes her head. Shelby puts them back in her pocket.

It is a cold night for Toni to have her legs bare like this. In the heat and crush of the club Shelby had been so hot in the jacket she wasn’t sure Fatin would ever be able to get the sweat stains out, but now she’s outside she’s grateful for what little protection it provides. Toni huddles in, folding her arms around her legs.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” she mutters, half to herself.

Shelby takes off the jacket, drapes it around both of them. Toni glances at her; something indistinguishable crosses her face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. She looks back down.

“Thanks.”

Shelby nods.

The silence stretches out for a long time between them. If she strains her ears she can still hear noise from within the club; mostly Gretchen shouting and Rachel’s loud domineering bark on top. Behind that, she can hear the whistle of trains coming and going. A motorcycle passes by, and the alley is briefly bathed in light, fading as the roar of the engine drifts.

“We were playing Monopoly,” Shelby says, finally. Toni glances up at her. “You were the thimble. You got all the train stations first.”

“What?”

“Board game night.”

There is a silence. Shelby risks a glance over at her when she feels the jacket around her shoulders shift, and sees Toni straighten, her expression clearing. Her eyes are cautious. “But we knew each other before then,” she says.

“I know,” Shelby says, quietly. She scuffs the toe of her boot against the pavement. “It was the first time I knew I liked you.”

She doesn’t dare look over. She hears Toni exhale, sharply. “You never said anything.”

“I slept with you after two drinks.”

“Fuck,” Toni breathes.

Shelby turns her feet in. “Despite popular opinion I’m not that much of a lightweight.”

“You weren’t there in the morning.”

“I got scared.” She glances up. Toni’s eyes are wide. “I wasn’t the only one who’d been drinking.”

“So... you’re—”

“I don’t know,” Shelby says.

Toni’s eyes are careful, but so, so gentle. “But you like me.”

“Yeah,” and it feels so good to say. “I know that much.”

“I got pissed,” Toni says, “when I saw you were doing this with me. Some cosmic joke, or something. The girl I’ll never have, the girl I came so fucking close to having: just... pretending. And then you in that fucking outfit.”

Shelby huffs a laugh. “Ridiculous, huh?”

“Hot,” Toni corrects. She nudges their knees together; leaves hers there. “Don’t tell Fatin.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Shelby says.

This time, when the silence stretches, it’s not stilted. Toni’s bare knee against her own is warm.

“What now, then?” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Do we go back to colleagues?”

“Tomorrow, maybe,” Toni says. “But for now I want to get you that martini.”

Shelby smiles at her. In the darkness, Toni’s teeth glint bright white.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed!! lmk what u thought :]


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